


Memoria

by Soffie101



Series: Rhetoric [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Past Life Regression, Slight spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-14 05:01:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7154621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soffie101/pseuds/Soffie101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was a dream. A reoccurring nightmare that you would visit almost every night. It was so close, you could touch it, and yet details were blurry when you woke up. The word, “memory,” played in your mind, but you knew this couldn’t be true. There were no such things as giants; this was all a figment of your imagination, a film your brain thought was amusing enough to play over and over again. It wasn’t real and you knew that.</p><p>Despite of that, he knows of these events, too. Are you truly alone?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We Meet

**Author's Note:**

> Part of a five part story where the reader is coping with past life regression along with other Attack on Titan characters. Some remember more than others, but all of them are dealing with it in a different way, including the reader.
> 
> Name spelling is taken from Funimation's English dub. The, "original characters," are the other reader characters for each part with placeholder names, which is as follows:  
> Josi Regerence - Jean/Reader  
> Julianna Embrose - Armin/Reader  
> Celia Dolence - Levi/Reader  
> Bethany Rosenburg - Marco/Reader  
> Maribelle Cadence - Connie/Reader  
> If you have a pluggin like InteractiveFics, you can replace these names to your liking.
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read this.

There you were, flying through the air. You could feel the wind violently breeze past you as you rushed from one point to another. Your clothes clung to the front of your body, flapping behind you from the air. Your hair was not safe either; it whipped around getting in your face, but you had no time to straighten it out. You would feel free like a bird if you were not in such distress. You could hear screaming behind you and loud, pulsating pounding close behind you. The faint smell of iron was stuck in your nose. A cold sweat broke on your back as you did the unthinkable: look behind you. A large, humanoid creature was charging towards you, and just when you thought you were in the clearing, it reached it’s long arm out and went to grab you.

You shook yourself awake.

This was a dream. A reoccurring nightmare that you would visit almost every night. It was so close, you could touch it, and yet details were blurry when you woke up. The word, “memory,” played in your mind, but you knew this couldn’t be true. There were no such things as giants; this was all a figment of your imagination, a film your brain thought was amusing enough to play over and over again. It wasn’t real and you knew that. Any night you did not have a nightmare like this, and you did remember what you had dreamt, it was blurry and would almost fade instantly; the faint feeling of peace was the only thing that lingered, which was ironic to you.

You rubbed your temple with your left hand, sitting up from your bed. You could feel your night clothes sticking to your skin due to sweat; that seemed to be the only real thing to come out of those dreams. You needed a shower. With this thought, you looked at your clock. Your vision was slightly blurry from being jolted awake so suddenly, but when your surroundings focused, you could see it: it was 7:15 AM. You had forty five minutes until your lecture on art history began. You had a couple of minutes before you needed to get cleaned, so you lied back down, reflecting on last night’s dreams.

Something crossed your mind, making you focus. It was a design. White and navy blue wings. You repeated your thought outline until you could see it clearly. Quickly, you jumped out of your bed and grabbed a sketchbook that was cast aside on your desk. You practically almost ripped out pages until you reached a blank one, simultaneously pulling out a 2H pencil. The light lead danced across the paper, jotting down this design before it faded away once again into the oblivion of an eighteen year old freshman’s mind. You messed with it until you were satisfied. The end result was an emblem of some kind, and not the first that you had designed.

You put down your sketching materials and wiped your forehead, this reminding you that you still needed that shower. You looked at the clock. 7:44 AM. Shit. You were a perfectionist to a fault when it came to art. You got too wrapped up in it, and now you were running late. You got up from your desk and quickly went to the washroom. Taking a quick ten minute shower, you left with your hair wet and clothes damp because of it.

By the time you made it to your lecture, everyone was already seated and attendance was already complete. You were lucky you lived on your campus’ residence, so you were closer to the school than if you lived at home, but it didn’t mean you’d be on time. Late on your first day. Great. You were let off with a slap on the wrist and were told to sit down and listen to the lecture carefully. The professor, a woman with red hair, spoke of Da Vinci and his works, things you had learned in high school.

With your academic prowess, everyone expected you to apply for an academic course. Even you thought this, and when you rolled into your last year of high school, you were researching every top university you could afford. That’s when the dreams started; the nightmares, or artistic visions as others would call them. When they started, you bought a sketchbook and art pencils and let the lead talk for you. Your art began to drive you, and while your art was not of normal fruits and animals, and instead of landscapes with large humans, it was beautiful and unique in its own way.

You drowned yourself in your thoughts, barely paying attention to the lecture. You remembered you had plans on Saturday with the friend who recommended you look into art programs: the two of you would be visiting an old friend at a cafe he worked at.

And before you knew it, the lecture was over. You barely picked up any of it. Despite it being your first day, you felt as if you had been doing this for years. You checked your phone while packing up your books. There were two text messages, both sent less than ten minutes before.

The first was from Sasha Braus, an old friend from middle school. She was one year older than you and a sophomore in the culinary arts and food services program. Anyone that knew her knew she was in love with food; if she could, she’d marry it before eating it. ‘coffee?’ was her message, and by that, you knew she meant, “bagel.” Before replying, you checked your second text.

It was from Julianna Embrose, another friend from middle school, and again, a year older than you. She was studying law and, despite being older, she was like your younger sister. This was the friend you had plans with on Saturday, today only being Monday. ‘Sasha wants to go out’ ‘Can get Advil afterwards.’ Julianna always had chronic back pains and migraines for an unknown reason.

You replied to both of them, ‘Meet in 5, regular place.’

You packed your last book in your bag and ran your hand through your hair; it was dry by now but didn’t feel the same as it would have if you properly cared for it. You slung the bag over your shoulder, which was relatively light for the meantime, and left the classroom.

While you were still in high school, a place close to both Sasha and Julianna’s school, you would all meet up at a cafe when all of your classes were done. Sasha would usually eat like no tomorrow, and while she was finishing up, you and Julianna would go and find some kind of medication for Julianna for the week.

It took about six minutes to walk to your usual meetup spot. Both Sasha and Julianna were already there; presumably they were there when they texted you. They were both sitting on a bench under a maple tree.

“(Name), there you are!” Sasha exclaimed, jumping from her seat and grabbing your hands as you approached. “I’m starving, so let’s go!”

Julianna laughed at Sasha’s reaction, rising from her own seat, pulling both her’s and Sasha’s bags over her shoulder. “Shall we go, (Name)? Not that we have much choice now, huh?” she giggled. You smiled and nodded.

“Yeah, let’s go.” you began to pull Sasha along with you. You were headed to Rico’s Sweets, a small cafe that had great pastries. While Sasha went with you for a moment, she then halted in her tracks and began pulling you in the opposite direction.

“Wait Josi, we’re going to granny Rico’s place today!” Sasha said, grabbing her bag from Julianna. Rico was an owner of a cafe where your friend, Armin, worked. She was definitely not old, but Sasha liked to tease her. You and Julianna planned on going there on Saturday. You guessed both of them spoke about it and decided to go there early?

“Sure, what’s the occasion?” you decided to ask.

“Actually, Connie is going there and he’s bringing his friend, Jean.” Sasha said. You had met Connie before; he was a photography major in your department. He was a good friend of Sasha’s, pretty much a partner in crime, and you were surprised that you didn’t know him as well as you could. Jean, on the other hand, you had never even heard of. Whether he was a new or old friend of Connie’s and Sasha’s, you didn’t and wouldn’t know. “Jean wanted to meet you.”

“Me? Why?” you stammered. Would Sasha and Connie really be talking about you to other people? Julianna shrugged, walking beside you.

“Apparently Jean is close with Connie, right Sasha?” she asked, waiting for confirmation. Sasha nodded, pulling out a small bag of cookies to sustain herself until you reached the cafe. “Sasha and Connie are close, so word of us have gotten to the boys.”

“I hope good words then,” you mumbled to yourself. You, Julianna, and Sasha have gotten yourselves into a lot; some things better than others. Julianna changed the subject and went to talk about something that happened that day during class while Sasha happily munched on her sweets. You didn’t pay much attention to this. Instead, you were planning on what you wanted to do that night. You still had some classes after this small break, but you wanted to get back to your sketchbook as quickly as possible.

About two minutes before reaching the cafe, you saw two figures walking towards you. The first one, you recognized: it was Connie. He had cut his hair since the last time you saw him, and that was saying something; his hair wasn’t long to begin with, now it was down to his scalp. The second, you also recognized, or so you thought. You didn’t know this man; you assumed it was Jean, as Sasha said, but you had never met him.

Yet something was familiar about him.

“Hey, Sasha! Took you three long enough.” Connie said, putting his hands on his hips and giving you three a big smile. Sasha made an iconic face of relief, saying something about how she had to wait for you. You didn’t listen. You were too busy studying this Jean character. You knew him, didn’t you? You met him somewhere before, right? No, you had never seen this man in your life.

He stared at you with small eyes that made him look almost intimidating. He was a brunet and his undercut hair lined his long face. It was familiar.

You felt something wash over you; a sense of peace. It wasn’t the kind of peace you felt on a normal day, though; it felt exactly like...

Like a dream. You tried to shake yourself awake, feeling like it would happen at any minute, but nothing. You weren’t dreaming this time. No monsters would be waking you up any time soon. For once in your real life, outside of the dream, you felt nervous. Scared. Seeing this Jean character put you on edge and you didn’t know why; it was unintentional that you felt this way. Your heart was almost beating out of your chest and you felt your legs starting to give out under you.

“(Name), are you okay?” Sasha turned her attention to you, snapping you back into reality. You tilted your head to reply to her, keeping your eyes on Jean. He seemed confused with your behavior, but his eyes were searching you; they were filled with longing. You went to say something, but that’s when you heard it.

“(Name)?” Jean almost whispered. The texture of his voice was distinct; it wasn’t like anything else you had heard. Despite it being quiet, you heard him as clear as a bell. Just by saying your name, you felt more weak than previously, letting yourself drop to the ground. Sasha and Julianna almost jumped at how surprised they were, and when they tried to help you to your feet, you denied them. You wrapped your mind around it: where have you heard that voice before? You know you had somewhere, somehow. Think. Think!

At the back of your mind resurfaced something. A picture. Your first dream that you counted as a memory. It was so blurry, but when you first had this dream, you were so frantic to draw it out before you forgot it. It was of you, or at least someone that looked like you, and a boy. Your memory faded too quickly for you to draw his face accurately, but now you knew: this was him. Jean was the boy, now a young man. You had dreamt about him countless of times. The face you would always forget was his.

Coming to this conclusion, you felt exhausted. There was still so much you didn’t know, like how you could dream of someone you never met and why it was causing you to panic so much, but after realizing who he was, it felt as if you had been running for hours and had just stopped. You needed a break.

You shook your head again, brushing hair out of your face. You saw Jean, Connie, and Sasha give each other a look of understanding while Julianna was still by your side, unsure of what to do.

“You guys keep going. I’m gonna take Josi back to residence or something.” Jean said, stretching out his hand for you to take. You stared at it for a minute before grabbing on, letting him hoist you up. Sasha nodded. Julianna you could see was not happy with the situation, but with Sasha’s persistence at dragging her away, she had no choice but to accept the event as it was.

“Jean, text me later, okay?” Connie called over his shoulder. Jean nodded and began walking towards the direction of residence. He still was holding your hand and intended on pulling you all the way it seemed.

You needed to sit down. Once you were out of sight from the, now, group of three, you pulled your hand away from Jean’s and sat on the grass by the sidewalk. He didn’t try to urge you to continue or anything, he just sat beside you. You played with the grass between your fingers, just trying to relax.

“It’s been a while, huh?” he questioned you. When you glanced at him, you saw he wasn’t looking at you. He was looking up at the sky, practically refusing to make eye contact with you. You didn’t really know what that meant, so you stayed silent. He seemed to take the hint and finally looked down at you; he was taller than you, sitting or standing.

There was sadness behind his eyes, and again, that longing.

“Do you remember anything?” he asked another question. His voice made him seem nervous, but his expression made him look eternally pissed off.

“I don’t understand.” you said this time. He sighed as if that wasn’t the answer he was looking for.

“Titan. Does that word have any meaning to you?” Jean asked his final question. Your eyes widened. Titans, the creatures you drew day and night. He couldn’t possibly know, right? You swallowed hard, nodding. He cursed under his breath. “Then I don’t need to tell you much other than it was real.”


	2. Memories

“They start as dreams, but the longer you're aware of them, you start having visions. You see people on the streets you know but have never met, and you're constantly on the verge of terror due to the feeling like something could happen at any minute.” Jean explained. You remained sceptical; part of you didn't know what he was talking about, the other was already putting the pieces together. “Wall Maria, Wall Rose, Wall Sina. The Survey Corps, the Garrison, the Military Police. Typical, abnormal, wall. The Colossal, the Armored, the Female.” his face kept growing darker and darker as he listed everything he knew

You pulled your knees into your chest, burying your head to the newfound space, and covering your ears. A tidal wave of emotions came crashing down on you. Faces you hadn't seen in a long time swiped through your mind. You were only calming down from your previous fit and we're now being sent into another one. It was overwhelming. Seeing you curl up into your own little ball, Jean halted his speech and leaned back, his head swaying behind him as he scratched his chest.

“It's not real,” you mumbled in your knees. You could hear him stir, so you knew he at least heard a sound from you. “It has to be a joke.”

“That's what I wanted to believe, too.” he sighed. “The dreams started when I was seven, and the visions when I was eight. People thought I was crazy and I hoped to God they were right. I was given medication upon medication, sent to specialist after specialist. That's when I met Marco.”

You flinched at the sound of that name, you knew it; it was the name of the boy who was hit by that truck a couple months prior. Something about that name rung in your head much longer than it should have, though.

“Marco brought me to these people and that's where I learned that everything, the dreams, the visions, the memories were real.” Jean finished his small story. You could tell there was more to it, but you didn't dare ask; not yet. You turned your head to be able to see him from your huddle of a position. He was holding his right hand with his left, the former in a ball, shaking like this was a hard story to recite. He stared at his hands for a long time before dropping them, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath as if he had come up with his own conclusion again.

You felt your nails digging into the palms of your hands. You couldn't believe it. It was a lie, right? But inside you knew you were in denial; when he spoke of this previous life, your skin shivered with excitement and terror, your ears craved more, and your imagination danced knowing that these faint memories could be true.

“I can tell you at least know who I am,” Jean decided to speak again. You didn't try to stop him. “But do you remember anything else? Anything?”

You racked your brain. Nothing was coherent. The faces that just ran past your mind were just a blur now. The terms that Jean recited, you made connections with, but nothing clear came to you. You gave the hopeful Jean your answer by shaking your head in the negative. He sighed.

“You looked a lot smarter than you are, I guess,” Jean said half heartedly.

You felt your eyes twitch; you didn't understand what that had to do with anything. Before you could realize what you were saying, you blabbed. “Book smarts do not matter in a world like this. It's killed or be killed; your street smarts and military training are all that matter.” The sequence of words seemed to flow out of your mouth; as if someone else said the, not you. It felt foreign, exotic as it rolled over your tongue. He smirked, though, as if this was his plan.

“Well at least I'm better than Eren. Clearly, I outshine that suicidal bastard in every way: looks, charm, and I'm popular with all the ladies!” he said another line that felt out of place. But again, you spoke as if on autopilot.

“Being popular with the young women does not get you through the ranks. Besides, I don't see you being swarmed constantly, as you might think you are being.”

“Is that jealousy I hear?”

You didn't need to hear any more. A click in your mind sparked an explosion of images until finally, you were somewhere else. Your brain told you you were sitting on the grass with an adult, Jean, but your senses told you otherwise. You could see candle light flickering in the background, you could hear chattering coming from another room, you could feel the wooden bench beneath your fingertips, and you could smell mildew coming from outside the building. A younger Jean sat in front of you on the same bench, making hand gestures that you felt like rolling your eyes to. Jean’s odd choice of sentences were no longer odd; you remembered this conversation. You had it a night that it rained during training. You dried Jean’s hair with a towel before listening to his problems for the millionth time.

And as quickly as it was there, it was gone. You felt the grass under your fingers again, Jean’s unwavering look on you remaining burned in your mind, young and old. You cradled your head in your hands. For the third time, you felt exhausted. Jean seemed to realize this, rising to his feet, and holding out his hand for you to grab on. You hesitated before letting him help you up; you had no reason to refuse him, you were just confused. This was happening all at once; how else would you have reacted? How else would others react?

“Didn’t mean to overwhelm you, babe.” he gave a slight smirk, rubbing his thumb over your hand, refusing to let go. You gave him an unapproving look, and he immediately understood: this was no time for flirting. Still, he did not let go of your hand. Instead, he began walking again towards your suite. You let him lead you, unsure of yourself. That’s when you remembered: Marco. You knew him from somewhere just like you knew Jean.

“There are others?” you asked quietly, keeping your eyes on the ground as you walked. Jean slowed his pace, thinking of a way to respond.

“Yeah, a lot. Some remember a lot, some not at all. They’re all around, though.” he replied, using his free hand to scratch the back of his neck. “I haven’t talked to all of them about it, but I’ve seen a whole lot of familiar faces throughout the years.”

“Do I know any of them?” you then decided to ask. For years of your life, you felt alone in the middle of nightmares that never ended. Were you really alone though? Were people you knew here and then always around you?

Jean stayed silent for a while. “I remember Sasha and Connie. You know them.” Jean mumbled, thinking more of those you might have known. “That other girl that was with you, too, I think; I remember her face.”

Your best friends right off the bat. Was that why you all got along? Because you had this similarity? But you had never spoken to Sasha or Julianna about nightmares before. You had never shown them your artwork you made that was inspired by your dreams.

But then you remembered the time you met Sasha; you were in middle school when you first met, Sasha in the cafeteria downing her’s and her friends’ food. When she saw you, she almost spit out all of the food packed in her cheeks and practically pounced on you as if she knew you. You took this as if she was overly friendly. Perhaps, though, this wasn’t the case; perhaps it’s because she recognized you and wanted to hold onto any parts of the past she could.

Jean wasn’t done listing his known party members. “Armin, Eren, Mikasa, Marco, Christa, Ymir, Annie, Bertholdt, Reiner, even some of the professors here.” There were so many, and you assumed they were all around the area of Jean knew them all personally. You felt dizzy. Jean squeezed your hand. “But that’s another story. We can save that puppy for another time.”

The rest of the walk to the residence felt like a blur. Your single suite was your home, but you didn’t feel relieved to be there. If Jean left, would he ever come back? Would you lose him again? You inwardly scolded yourself; were you really buying into this? It had to be some kind of joke. You cursed yourself for your internal conflict.

You pulled out your key and unlocked the door, opening your small apartment of seeming freedom. You and Jean lingered in the doorway. Both of you seemed to want to say so much but had no drive to be the first to speak. Jean clicked his tongue impatiently. “Give me your phone, I’ll put my number in it.”

Without thinking, you took your phone out of your pocket and handed it to him, staring blankly as he fumbled with it to put in his digits. He seemed confused about your phone type but at least was able to get his first name and phone number in without breaking it.

“(Name),” he began, clearing his throat as he passed you back your mobile device. You perked your ears to listen to him. “Do you remember anything about me?”

You had no idea how to reply to that. In all honesty, no, you didn’t remember. You remember his image and spending time with him, but his personality and past was a blank to you. You didn’t even remember his name or exact face until today. Your hesitation seemed to be enough of an answer for him.

“Figures.” he ran a hand through his double length hair, disappointment ringing in his voice.

“Was there something I should have remembered?” you questioned.

Jean studied you before replying. You could hear his uncertainty. “I can’t say I remember every detail, but I know that we were...” he trailed off. He licked his lips, trying to find another way to word things. “You and I were close to say the least.”

You rubbed your phone in your hand, leaning yourself against the door frame. “So you came today to rekindle that?” you guessed. His lack of an answer confirmed this for you. You closed your eyes to try and remember something, anything about Jean in the Titan-infested world. All you could pick up was warmth. Peace. When he said close, if he meant love, then you didn’t think you felt any love for him now. Despite that, you felt you could grow to love Jean, just not now.

Jean took his right hand and used it to pat your head. He took this as his go-ahead to leave, dejected and feeling lonely. A pang in your heart went off, forcing you to speak up. “Wait,” you grabbed his attention. He looked over his shoulder to see you. His eyes shone, filled with confusion and hope. You gulped. “Will you stay? Tell me about what you know?”

You watched Jean’s parted lips slowly turn to a grin. He nodded, entering your single suite, following your actions of kicking off his shoes at your door. Whatever classes you had for the rest of the day weren’t priority, and while you felt like you were being an awful student, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave to attend them.

This wasn’t a setup; you weren’t looking for a night of adult activities. He knew this. Throughout the night, he told you stories of the things he remembered, and you listened like a child being read a bedtime story. When night fully set through the area, you slept in your bed. Jean, worried for your health, stayed in your suite. When you got up in the middle of the night to get a glass of water, you saw him sleeping on the couch, scrunched up due to the couch’s length being too short for his stature.

When you woke up in the morning, Jean was nowhere to be found. A muffin from a coffee shop and a bottle of water were left on your table, along with a note that said, ‘morning class, call in sick sleep for the day, i’ll check on you later.’

You contemplated doing as he said; sleeping for the whole day. Whether you did or not was your choice in the end, but regardless, you knew you would be in your suite when he visited later. You knew this would be the start of your life, your previous experiences just background noise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.


End file.
